


Sail Away

by melanie1982



Category: Donnie Wahlberg - Fandom, New Kids On The Block
Genre: F/M, Self-Indulgent, Silly, icandosmut, icandosoppy, ridic, thisisamixofboth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breanna had the perfect plan: a cruise without drama, miles away from everything - and everyONE - she knew.<br/>Forget icebergs; her dream voyage is about to get capsized by a WAHLberg..  </p><p>You can't run, fly, or sail away from your destiny.</p><p>Fiction. I don't know these people in real life. I make no money from this story.</p><p>The poem quoted in this work is 'The BlueBird' by Sri Aurobindo. Credit where credit is due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plans versus Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins

The trip was booked. Breanna couldn't believe what an amazing deal she'd gotten; she felt sorry for the girl who'd had to sell her spot, but at least she'd helped the girl get back some of the money she'd spent. It was going to be so nice: four days and nights on a luxury liner, no friends, no family, surrounded by strangers... The perfect opportunity to forget all the craziness of the last.. well, that was the thing; it was so complicated, she couldn't say for sure how long her life had been off-course.

She liked the band okay. Some of their songs were catchy (mostly the older stuff); she wasn't really familiar with the later stuff, but what did it matter? Breanna was headed into uncharted waters, but there would be no emotional baggage coming with her; the guys were all married, and besides, she didn't love any of them, didn't know anything personal about them, had never even met any of them. Ignorance was bliss, Breanna decided. Yep - an adventure on the Backstreet Boys cruise was just what her Blockhead ass needed. The fans could fuss, fight, drink, dance, and carry on - it wouldn't disturb her groove. 

As she settled into her private cabin (small, but HERS and hers alone!), she felt the tension melting away, the knots in her neck and shoulders untying themselves. The bed was so comfortable, she thought she might just stay onboard for the whole trip, wearing nothing but her complimentary bathrobe and gorging herself on room service. The Destiny was her new home, a sign that her life was turning a corner, heading in a new, better direction.. 

They say if you wanna make God laugh, tell him your plans. Breanna was about to run aground on a cosmic punch-line.


	2. All Bands On Deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people we try to forget pop up in the oddest of places...

Brea was pretty sure her odds of running into a Backstreet Boy were slim to none. Not that it would be a big deal if she did; there was only one 'celebrity' who made her fan-girl, and she'd come a long way since that first nervous encounter. Her feelings now weren't fan love, but real love, and she -

Brea stopped herself. Those thoughts didn't belong on this ship. Maybe she should write them all down, tear them up, and toss them overboard. This was her new start, damn it; he had no place in her new life.

Despite the temptation to wallow in her bed, she'd managed to spruce herself up and head to the main deck for the opening ceremonies. The excitement of the genuine fans created a nice vibe, and so far, she hadn't witnessed any drama or hoochie behavior. Brea told herself she had as much right to be there as anyone else; it's not like anyone was going to grill her on BSB trivia, to make her prove her fandom. 

The shows were fun. Brea found herself singing along with the older numbers, and when a song came on that she didn't know, she just danced her way through it. The Boys had their own activities for fans, and Brea enjoyed being an observer, getting a vicarious thrill any time a fan got to interact with her favorite. It was nice, lighthearted, and devoid of deep emotion.

So why did her mind keep drifting to the man she'd left behind? No; that wasn't true. They'd left each other. Who had pulled away first? It was hard to say. The whole mess was so complicated, she couldn't pinpoint the moment when they'd shifted from unconsummated lovers to virtual strangers. Apart from the odd hint-drop here and there on Twitter, Donnie had ceased to acknowledge her existence. Brea had contemplated deleting her account more than once, but something inside of her told her to keep that line of communication open. Things could change in a heartbeat, and she couldn't deny loving him in every way a woman could love a man. She wanted to be there for him, in case he ever realized he needed her.

And there it was. She could go anywhere in the world, immerse herself into any fandom, and that love would still be there. She couldn't escape; he was there in every beat of her heart, an element in every dream, a song she couldn't get out of her head. 

Shit.

Well, she'd travelled thousands of miles to have her a-ha moment, away from cellphones and internet access, away from mainstream media.. Her moment of clarity had arrived, and she just had to ride it out. There was no way she could afford to cut her cruise short and go home, so Brea figured she'd better make the most of the rest of the trip.

Feeling like people were staring at her, she retrained her focus. Brian Littrell had that deer-in-the-headlights look, glancing nervously at Kevin, while AJ arched a brow at Brea in the way that only he could. Had she said or done anything to draw attention to herself? Was she having a breakdown?

The girl next to her nudged her with an elbow. "What's your favorite BSB song? They're waiting."

Brea blushed, then paled. "Uh.. If You Want It To Be Good, Girl, Get Yourself a Bad Boy?"

The crowd erupted in laughter and applause. Shrugging, the tickled band segued into the requested number. Brea tried to see the funny side of things, dancing along with the others, but she still felt like she was being watched. That uneasy feeling reached deep into her core, staying with her for the rest of the night and into the following day. What could it mean?


	3. The Meaning of Being Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more complicated

Brea had noticed the cameras from day one, but there seemed to be more of them now. Brea wasn't camera-shy, though she didn't seek attention, either. Still, the thought of being recorded in the context of a BSB event unnerved her. It almost felt like, well, cheating. New Kids were there first, and she'd never abandon them. Even if they didn't want her anymore. Even if HE didn't want her anymore.

But what if he does?

That small voice - not a voice, but .. an intuition - kept whispering to her. The ocean spoke to her, soothing her soul, and the relative absence of conversation with other people meant it was harder to ignore that inner knowing. Seeking peace and rest by one of the pools, Brea felt the watching again, the hair on her neck standing on end. A slight breeze caressed her as she gazed up at the stars. Most of the fans were taking power-naps in their cabins or whooping it up at the after-after-party (AJ seemed capable and intent on going all night). A sense of timelessness settled upon her, and Brea let her thoughts drift. It would be so nice to have him here, she mused, looking up at the stars like this, nobody caring who they were, the two of them just.. being.

"You okay?" A strange male voice broke her reverie. 

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were okay." Brea saw in him a family resemblance to one of the guys in the band, and said so. 

A sheepish admission of being the relative of a Backstreet Boy followed. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Just.. You ever feel like somebody's watching you?" She regretted asking as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He didn't blink, taking it in stride.

"You are being watched. Don't worry; you're safe."

"What do you - why - I'm being watched??" 

He smiled enigmatically. "I was asked to keep an eye on you."

Brea's heart did a flip. "By whom?" The words came out in a strangled whisper. 

"I can't say. Just know that you're not in any danger." 

"You can't.. You can't just walk up to someone and tell them they're being WATCHED, then refuse to elaborate." Brea began to stand up. She was going back to her cabin, away from this creep. He didn't seem to be joking; he stated everything so calmly, so detached from the meaning of his own words. 

"I'm just doing my job," he offered, lamely.

Brea spun on her heel. "Your JOB? I don't care who you are or who your family is - I am a private citizen. I am NOT a celebrity, and I do NOT want some random person following me or watching me or videotaping me. This is my VACATION! I am here to relax!"

He smiled. "You don't seem relaxed. You seemed lost in serious thought when I found you. Wanna talk about it?"

He wanted her to confide in him, after what he'd just revealed?

"You're.. Who sent you? Tell me, or I'm leaving."

"I'm not at liberty to say. Just know that my boss is - "

Brea had heard enough. She walked away as fast as her shaking legs could carry her, not giving him time to finish. She was so angry, her skin was red-hot, and she slept without blankets that night.

The sooner the boat docked in the morning, the better. She was going to find a nice, quiet spot on the beach away from everyone, and she was going to RELAX, damn it.

Something inside her told her things wouldn't be that simple...


	4. Mess On The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head

So what if it was only for a few hours? So what if the island had little to do? It was beautiful, and she was ashore for a break from the constant feeling of weirdness and tension. She hadn't noticed creepy guy disembark, and most of the fans were opting to stay on the ship. What a relief!

Brea sighed. The shade of the palm trees and the gentle winds were the only things taking the edge off the heat of the day. She listened to the waves lapping against the shore, the faraway chatter and cry of the island birds, the absolute lack of human noise. The water was clear; brightly-colored fish darted in and out of view, and the sand felt soft, not coarse like on the shores of her native coast. Giant cumulus clouds drifted at a lazy pace, seemingly in no hurry to lose this view, and Brea could relate. As she laid out her towel beneath a cluster of trees, she felt something leaving her, and she let it go. It was what she no longer wanted or needed, the ghosts of the past exorcised by the beauty and purity of this spot. Truly, this was paradise. 

Brea had never felt so content in all her born days. Her consciousness danced into that strange quivering place between sleep and wake, edging ever closer to the former, but not before she began to sense that something wonderful was waiting for her, some secret treasure connected to this journey. With a sense of surety stronger than any she'd ever known, she drifted away, warm and happy in the knowledge that everything was going to work out. 

Upon awakening, it took Brea a moment to remember where she was. She reveled in the quiet for several minutes, but she was a wordsmith at heart, and her mind couldn't stand to let such a perfect moment pass without waxing poetic. Words were the foundation of all that she did and all that she was, reading, writing, speaking; friends often teased her that, were she to be cut open, she would bleed ink. Brea watched a brilliant blue bird, tracking its path across the horizon until it disappeared from view. Rather than compose her own work, she borrowed lines from another, speaking them out loud in the sanctuary she had found:

"I am the bird of God in His blue;  
Divinely high and clear  
I sing the notes of the sweet and the true  
For the god's and the seraph's ear  
I rise like a fire from the mortal's earth  
Into a griefless sky  
And drop in the suffering soil of his birth  
Fire-seeds of ecstasy.  
My pinions soar beyond Time and Space  
Into unfading Light;  
I bring the bliss of the Eternal's face  
And the boon of the Spirit's sight.  
I measure the worlds with my ruby eyes;  
I have perched on Wisdom's tree  
Thronged with the blossoms of Paradise  
By the streams of Eternity  
Nothing is hid from my burning heart;  
My song is rapture's mystic art,  
My flight immortal will."  


As she finished reciting, Brea closed her eyes, wanting to ease her body into motion by degrees. She wanted to enjoy this feeling of bonelessness and weightlessness she was currently experiencing. A soft voice from just behind her line of vision startled her into sitting upright.

"Those were beautiful words. Yours?"

Her head whirled round to find the source of the voice, her mind screaming at her that it couldn't be, her instincts knowing that it had to be. Donnie's face was now on her level, and her heart kicked up speed, adrenaline flooding her form. 

"What are you doing here?"

His eyes flashed hurt, but not anger. "It's nice to see you again, too."

Brea straightened her posture, but did not stand. "I.. You frightened me. I thought I was alone. How long have you - "

He gave a sheepish grin. She hadn't screamed or lashed out physically; those were good signs, right? "A while. I saw a person under the trees, and I was worried. I didn't expect it to be you."

He wanted to add, "I'm glad it was," but thought better of it.

Brea was taking slow, deep breaths, trying to stave off an anxiety attack. She didn't want to be seen as weak and helpless in his presence; that simply wouldn't do. Remember what happens when you trust, she told herself. Remember, specifically, what happens when you trust HIM.

Remembering his original question, she focused on answering - anything to distract her from the racing of her foolish rabbit's heart. "No, those words aren't mine. They're by a poet named Sri Aurobindo."

He grew thoughtful. "Well, they're beautiful. You recited them very well."

Donnie Wahlberg, poetry lover? The man had a knack for rhyming, but.. 

He was offering her a hand, which she accepted. The jolt of emotions she felt at that light contact should have told her to run, to ignore him, to do whatever it took to get away, yet the dream she'd had began to come back to her. Could he be part of the secret she was meant to find?

Their last encounter had been.. less than she'd hoped for. Perhaps the universe was giving her another chance at closure.

"I'm sorry. I.. I just didn't think I'd ever see you again. I answered *your* question, so, would you please answer mine?"

His face was blank, as if he had already forgotten it. She tried again. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah. Well, what with our band's documentary and all, the guys asked me to come along on their cruise and give creative input on the documentary THEY'RE making."

Brea smiled despite herself. "They're making their own version of Rock This Boat?" The cameras. That was why.. 

He relaxed a fraction of an inch. "Yeah. They don't have a title yet. It's early days, but, I've got some experience, both as a producer, and as subject matter, so.."

It made sense. In some twisted, boy-band brotherhood, celebrity six-degrees-of-separation-game kinda way. Brea considered suggesting 'BSB at Sea,' or even 'BSB's BSCs,' but thought better of it. He took his work very seriously, and making fun might not go over well.

"Wait - you mean to tell me you've been on the boat this whole time?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, they wanted me in from day one, so I've been behind the scenes, answering questions, editing footage.. What's wrong?"

The color had drained from her face. "I.. I just.. We've been stuck on a floating hotel with a bunch of Backstreet fans, and our paths never crossed? Then I decide to go ashore on an island with nothing but beach, and you do the same, only for us to run into each other in the middle of nowhere?"

He had to have been the mysterious 'boss' the creep worked for. Had to be. I mean, she didn't know anyone in BSB, had never had any interaction with them before the cruise, so.. But why? And why NOW?

It seemed odd, almost impossible - which, of course, meant it was bound to happen. Isn't that how life works?

"So are you sorry you saw me?"

Was she? It was time to be honest. No more third party, ferrying messages back and forth between them; no hints or riddles. "I'm not sorry. I've waited for this moment my whole life. I blew it before, and I don't want to waste another opportunity. I'm glad you're here." If he'd had her followed, it showed she still meant something to him. She hadn't been thrown overboard or escorted off the ship; she hadn't been ordered to stay in her cabin.. He had known she was there on a rival band's cruise, and he wanted to see her, even if it wasn't face to face. She should have been freaked out, but he'd done this before, had her watched, even recorded, to feel closer to her without actually having to get close to her. 

Donnie seemed to be a bit taken aback by her admission. "I've missed you." He said it to the sand, letting his words fall, unable to look directly at her until the sentiment was out. She caught those words, holding them to her heart.

"I've missed you, too. More than you know."

The wind had picked up, but neither of them had noticed until that moment. The sky, once a brilliant blue, was now dark and foreboding. Goosebumps rippled across Brea's skin, and she shivered. "Is there anywhere to take shelter? Looks like a bad storm's comin' in."

Donnie checked his watch. "We have to be back at the dock in half an hour, or the ship will leave us here."

Brea felt the blood in her veins turning to ice. "What?" She checked her phone; no wonder her alarm hadn't gone off - her battery was dead. "But, I - I mean, they couldn't just - "

His face said it all: The ship could, and would, leave them. 

"I'll call one of the guys, see if they can get a message to the - "

Brea shook her head. "We can't get to the dock in this weather. It's not safe; there could be - "

Right on cue, lightning streaked across the sky. 

"We need to get off the beach." She looked at the hotel in the distance. "Think we can make it there?"

The rain began to fall in sheets, making her sarong cling to her legs. Donnie's all-white outfit was becoming alarmingly see-through, making him feel over-exposed. Brea looked back at him, and he sighed. What choice did they have?

They kept close to the trees, but eventually the tree line ended, and they were out in the open. Brea had gotten into shape since the last time they'd met, and Donnie noticed. By the time they reached the hotel, he was more winded than she was.

As they entered the lobby, they heard the weather radio at the front desk forecasting multiple hurricanes spotted off the coast. Brea sank into a chair, shivering as the AC chilled her soaked clothes. Donnie spoke to the receptionist, and Brea figured he was asking for towels or blankets. When he returned, he helped her out of the chair.

"What are you - "

"Come on. I got us a room."

Brea felt hot from head to toe. "A.. as in.."

Donnie gave her a look she couldn't read. "You wanna sit here and freeze? There's a lot of glass in those doors; if we get hit.."

"Okay, okay. I'm with you." Then, "Just, you shocked me. I mean, 'I got us a room,' sounds so.. suggestive."

His hand on the small of her back wasn't helping matters. Why did she burn everywhere he touched her?

Just as they hit the button for the elevator, the lights flickered, then died. "Oh, wow. Guess we'll be taking the stairs."

Brea had an image of them trapped in a dark elevator flash into her mind, making her knees wobble. The emergency lights had kicked on, giving them just enough visibility to take each slow step. The third floor hallway was similarly lit, and Donnie peered at the room numbers until they found the right one. 

"Is it one of those electronic key cards?," she asked, voice wavering. If they didn't have power, then - 

"Nah. Good old-fashioned metal key," he said, his voice lower than he'd intended. The metal fumbled its way into the lock, the doorknob finally turning for him.

Even in the darkness, the room looked inviting. Maybe because of it.

"You wanna, uh, you wanna go first?"

His voice so close to her was jarring. "What?"

Donnie cringed. Why wasn't he better at this? It's not like he hadn't had experience.. "The shower. I figured you'd wanna get out of those wet clothes, warm up a little."

"Oh. Yeah. You sure you don't mind?"

He shook his head. Why couldn't he look at her?

"I won't be long."

Brea had to leave the door ajar, allowing light from the living room windows to slip in. She moved the towel to the edge of the sink so she could hang her soaking clothes on the towel rail. They were making awful puddles on the floor, but what could she do? The water was hot, bringing her skin back to life, removing every trace of sand. She thought too late about the shower drain, hoping the sand wouldn't clog the pipes. The shampoo smelled of vanilla and coconuts, and she inhaled its fragrance with the steam.

Conscious that the hot water might run out, and that Donnie was equally cold and wet, she hurried. When the last of the suds had fallen to the tub floor, she shut off the water. Being naked - WET and naked - and knowing Donnie was just a few yards away, made her feel too much. She needed to cover up - but she had no change of clothing. The towel would have to do.

As she emerged, Donnie felt a lump rise in his throat. He'd seen photos of this woman, years ago, but they were nothing compared to seeing her in the flesh. The fact that she had trusted him enough to let him have photos, never asking him to reciprocate, hit him anew, and he felt guilty for reasons he couldn't name. One of his favorites had been of her just like this, her hair wet and hanging down her back, her body wrapped in nothing but a crimson bath-sheet. He could feel his breath hitch in his chest, his heart stutter, and he needed to break the mood, to get into the other room where he'd be safe.

"I hope I left you enough hot water."

"Wow. You, uh, you weren't kidding when you said you wouldn't be long."

Was she feeling it too? Had she hurried so that he wouldn't be tempted to approach her in the shower, or so she wouldn't be tempted to - to - .. Donnie excused himself.

Brea smiled, though she felt overwhelmed. How had her day turned so strange so quickly? Donnie was like the storm: coming out of nowhere, disrupting the little peace she'd eked out on the island. Shaking her to the core.

Donnie gathered himself, heading to the bathroom. Brea sat on the edge of the bed, her mind wandering. He didn't have any other clothes, either; this was supposed to be a flying visit, a few short hours on the island, then back to the security and luxury of the ship. Would the others be looking for him, trying to reach him? She was quite sure nobody would look for her. Nobody on the ship knew her, so who was there to care if she missed the boat?

Donnie groaned softly as the hot water hit his back. Part of him was afraid she'd try to sneak a peek, and he sort of deserved it. He'd seen every part of her, at least on a screen, and she'd never gotten to see every part of him. It was unfair, and he knew it. Another part of him was afraid she wouldn't want to look. So much had happened since that day in New York. Was that the last time? No. There was the time after that, when he'd chickened out of meeting her. The final straw had been the Indy concert, when he'd had the chance to find a minute to see her, and he'd let that chance slip away. She'd wanted to wish him well, to say goodbye and let him go into an ill-advised future with someone who didn't deserve him. Several times that night, he'd singled her out in the crowd, his eyes telegraphing his regret and his pain. He felt anything but confident and sexy, his thrusts being half-hearted, knowing she was watching, hurting, aching for him. He'd been a fool. Was she happy to know how he was suffering? Did she know or care at all - about his life, his impending second divorce, his heart? Brea had offered herself to him, body and soul, had told him her deepest secrets, had even shown him her body - never asking for promises or public acknowledgement, never demanding he reciprocate. Was there any chance she still loved him? If she didn't, could he make her love him again?

It could be so easy. He could just take himself in hand right here, just work it out into his fist like he'd done hundreds of times before on the nights he'd wussed out of calling her, or failed to speak when she answered his call. Those photographs were burned into his memory, and seeing her just now, even more beautiful than her pictures, he knew it wouldn't take long. It was safer, safer than going out there with both of them dressed in nothing but towels, trapped here for who knew how long, current emotions mixing with nostalgia, spiked with survival adrenaline. The storm was getting nasty, slamming the building with wind and rain. He could hear the eerie roar, and part of him told him it would work to his advantage, to cover any sounds he might make.. No. No more cop-outs. It had always been too easy to use the fantasy of her to keep the reality at bay, a cheap substitute for Brea herself. No more hiding. No more excuses. Maybe they were stuck here for a reason, as if God had had enough of the pining, the what-ifs. He felt the water beginning to cool, rinsing his hair and making sure he hadn't neglected to clean any part of himself. Just in case. In case she'd have reason to care. 

He found her looking as unsure of herself as when he'd left. Brea was facing the window, looking out at the waves, wondering how far up the shore the waves would ultimately come. 

"Feel better?" Her tone was chipper, but it was forced. What did she mean by 'better'? Was she teasing him?

"Uh, yeah. Much better."

He didn't know where to sit. A knock at the door made them both jump, his hand nearly losing its grip on the towel. Donnie moved to answer it.

"Welcome basket," the young woman said by way of explanation. "If there's anything else you need, please ask. The phones are down, but we're in the lobby."

"Thank you." He peered at the basket like it was from outer space.

"So what passes for VIP welcome basket material here?" Brea made sure her towel was tucked firmly beneath her armpits before heading over to where Donnie stood.

"Looks like.. some emergency candles.. matches.. crackers.. What's this stuff?"

Brea looked at the label on the small plastic bottle. "Uh.. it's nothing."

Donnie frowned. "Nothing in a bottle? Lemme see."

She tried to stash it in a drawer, but he was too fast for her, and she couldn't risk losing her towel. He was glad she couldn't see him blush.

"Oh. Wow."

She teased, "What sort of place IS this?"

A well-prepared one, Donnie thought, saying nothing.

"There's, uh, some other stuff here, too." Donnie held up the strip of little foil squares, and Brea gripped the edge of the nightstand. 

Oh.

"Wow."

She needed to sit down again. This was too much. Focus on the storm. Watch the waves. Think of your life, of what you want for the future. Think of how you'll get back home.

Donnie wanted to live in the moment. He didn't want to think about home, or how pissed everyone was going to be. He didn't want to imagine inordinate sums of money being sucked from his account, attorney fees, tabloid fodder, the fans' reactions.. He wanted to enjoy his time with Brea.


	5. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it says

Donnie sat beside her, not touching. The basket and its contents were on the nightstand, within reach.

Brea felt warm. The AC was off, and her skin was still steaming from the shower, all rosy and soft. "So.. How are things at home?"

Donnie hoped his tone conveyed friendly interest, rather than the bitterness he felt. 

"Quiet. It's been years since I lived alone; I've been adjusting."

There it was. She was single. Donnie felt a quickening in his solar plexus - and other places.

"Oh. Well, is that a good thing, or should I offer my condolences?"

"It's okay. Things are.. they're okay. Really. It was a mutual decision."

She wasn't nursing a broken heart. That was good. He was happy that she wasn't hurting. He wondered what it was like to have an amicable, mutual parting of the ways.

Brea supposed this was the part where she should ask him about HIS life, but, other than the occasional tweet (no names in it), she hadn't tried to contact him, nor had she watched any of his fish-bowl antics. The changes in him had left her cold; the Donnie she'd known and loved was a private person, and for him to get with someone who told and showed every personal detail of his body, his sex life, his being, was repugnant to her. "Are you happy, sweetie? Truly, deep-down-to-your-toes happy?"

She wasn't sure which answer would upset her more, but the question was out there now. She waited.

Donnie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "If I tell you something, do you swear it won't leave this room?"

Brea felt a shift in the energy around them. "Donnie, if you don't trust me, please don't tell me anything secret. I don't want you worrying that I'll blab."

She had given him an opening, and he was going to take it.

"I do trust you. All that stuff that happened - or should've happened - between you and me - I've never been contacted by a tabloid, never seen it on a gossip site or a twitter page. I know you've put bits and pieces of it into your stories, but.." Here, he smiled. It moved him that she still cared enough to continue their story, the one that had been abruptly cut off by so many people and circumstances.

"So you did read them." Why did that make her feel so good? 

"I did. The point is, I know you've never told it all, and the parts you've shared have been fictionalized. Thank you."

Another pause. She didn't breathe.

"I'm going to be single again soon. I already consider myself to be, but there's a lot of paperwork. It's a process; you.. Well, you know. You've been through it before."

She did. The divorce from her first ex, though they'd had no children or assets to fight over, had been a torturous ordeal. Brea shuddered at the memory. He had so much to lose, and so publicly! Talk about a hurricane.

"I'm.. I don't know what to say. Should I say I'm sorry to hear that? I am. I wanted you to be happy."

"Just not with her?"

"It's not like that. Donnie, I knew she was wrong for you, but I want you to love and be loved. I just want the best for you. She wasn't.. and isn't."

He hung his head. Brea gently touched his hand.

"I won't tell anyone. You're going to have enough to deal with."

Brea turned her body toward the nightstand, reaching for the matches and the candles. He watched her work, watched her bring the flames to life, setting them on the nightstand. Damn, she was beautiful. Her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, mixing with the moisture from the shower. She wasn't caked in make-up, the last trace of her sunblock having been washed away, leaving her skin fresh and bare. He could smell her as she moved, the heat of her, the sweetness..

"Brea, I'm sorry I couldn't say it."

She knew immediately what 'it' was, but every hair on her body stood on end. "I understand why you couldn't. I shouldn't have pushed you."

"No. You should've. I needed to say it. It's haunted me ever since, just like you warned me."

She settled back into her spot on the bed, the small gap between them crackling with electricity. "Donnie.."

He took her hand, and she did not resist. He lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss on the smooth skin there. "I loved you, Brea." The words rubbed into her flesh, traveling in a straight line to her heart. 

"I loved you, too. I knew you did, even if you didn't say it. You showed it. I was wrong to fight it. I just.. I wasn't sure you could be the 'forever' type. I'm still not."

Donnie had to stand up to that. "And what about now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, not thinking about forever. Thinking about now. What do you feel now?"

Brea shifted toward him. "I still feel it. It never went away, even under the anger and the pain. You?"

He looked her dead in the eye. "I think you know. It never stopped. When things were good, I compared her to you, the road not taken. When things began to unravel, I thought of you, of how you were right. Of how you tried to keep me safe."

"When you love somebody, you want the best for them, even if it hurts you."

"We've both been hurt, by others, and by each other. Will you try again? Will you give me that chance?"

This might be her only chance. He was offering her everything she'd ever wanted. "I.."

The building shook; thunder crashed. Donnie grabbed her, pulling her to the floor, where they'd be sheltered by the bed.

"What'd you do THAT for?!" She didn't mean to yell, but he'd scared her.

"I thought.. I thought the window was gonna.."

The winds whipped by, but the glass did not shatter. Her towel had come dangerously close to exposing her breasts. Brea shook her head.

"You're so smooth, lover," she teased. Her hand caressed his cheek, and she looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. That look had always gotten to him in photographs, and it was even more intense in person.

"Brea.." 

"Donnie.. I want you. I'm not sorry we had our little clear-the-air talk, but.. I just want.."

"This isn't how I would've planned it. I wish I could - "

"Do the whole bubble-bath, strawberries-and-champagne thing? So do I." That surprised him; she hadn't been much of a romantic before. "Things change, Donnie. I've changed."

He kissed her, and her mind switched to images, losing words. The glass rattled and shook in its frame, but here, they were safe. The kiss felt familiar, and she met him move for move, as if they'd done this innumerable times before. She no longer cared if her towel slipped out of place, moving his hand to her breast, letting him know it was okay, that she wanted this. Wanted him.

Donnie grabbed a pillow from the bed, and she lifted her head to allow him to position it for her. He was kissing her so slowly, savoring her, and she could feel the urge in him, the need to go faster, competing with his desire to make this last. She could relate.

His thumb brushed against her nipple through the fabric of the towel, making it harden to a pebble. She was proud of her body, of the way she'd toned up and slimmed down, though she was still conscious of the fact that he'd been with some beautiful women. 

"You're so sexy. So soft.." Donnie seemed to read her mind, which was fine with her. The others no longer mattered; now, it was her turn.

"Thank you." She didn't refute him, didn't diss herself; she accepted the compliment, letting go of her insecurities. She could do this.

Donnie had some insecurities of his own. She sensed his uncertainty. "Donnie, I don't expect perfection. It's okay. You're human. As long as we both feel good, it doesn't matter."

But it did matter. He wanted to please her. No matter how many times he'd rehearsed this in his mind, he hadn't expected to get a chance to really.. and on today of all days. How had they ended up here?

She reassured him with kisses. He loved how responsive she was, how unashamed in her need for him. Donnie knew of her self-doubts, and she was giving him a gift: the gift of her trust. It was more than he deserved, and so much more than he had dared hope for.

His hands stayed where she had placed them. "It's okay. You can.. touch me anywhere. Everywhere. I want you to."

"Same to you," he breathed. "Anywhere you want." 

That was a dangerous offer. Brea let her hands travel the broadness of his shoulders and back in sweeping strokes. She followed the lines of muscle down his sides, grazing his sensitive ribs and feeling his response as he gasped against her mouth. He was at an advantage, already knowing what she liked, while she had only a few details about what turned him on. Donnie's hips were aligned with hers, and Brea ran her fingertips over that part of them, the part where they were pressed together with nothing but towel between them. 

As the kisses continued, Brea found her nerve, fumbling with her towel in order to unwrap it from her upper body. The weight of his body bore down on her, chest to chest. He was so hot to the touch, and she could feel his heart beat picking up speed along with her own. "Please," she whispered, unsure of what she was asking for, letting him interpret however he saw fit. Donnie's head ducked down into her neck, finding sensitive spots in need of kisses and gentle nips.


	6. Finish What You Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heating up

Maybe she'd slipped on deck and hit her head. Maybe she'd died in her sleep. Brea didn't care. If this was a dream, or the afterlife, she was okay with it. More than okay.

The man didn't just kiss. He.. feasted. He fed on her, like she was all sugar and cinnamon, and he couldn't get enough. Brea wondered how many marks she'd have, how many bruises, and she didn't care. Nobody would ever guess; nobody would ask. 

Donnie took his time, just like she knew he would. Why had she settled for quick fucks most of her life, shying away from making love? This was torture, but in the best way. He was claiming her, inch by inch, part by part, making her entire body hum with need, with life. With love.

"Do you like that?" Every time he asked her, she murmured assent. He knew she liked it, knew without words, but hearing him ask in that low purr made her wet, so she didn't mind at all. He wanted her to feel good, and he was checking in with her, not letting her crawl into her headspace. Brea had to be present in the moment; he was giving her that gift.

"Oh. Like that.. there.." She couldn't see what he was doing, but it felt amazing, and she wanted it again and again. The towel was down to her hips now, and she was trembling, ready for him to move it aside. Brea sensed that he was stalling, knowing that once he got *there*, things might speed up. Donnie wanted to draw this out.

"Not yet, girl," he soothed into her skin. He knew what she wanted, what they both needed, but he also knew he was only human, and his iron will was bending in their heat. Donnie couldn't afford to lose control, to let them both down.

How many times had she imagined the way his stubble would feel against her skin? The reality of it left her imagination behind in the dust. It sent goose-bumps racing across her skin, her hands gripping the back of his head, begging for more. Stay. Please.

His fingers left trails of molten heat wherever they touched her, every cell of her body singing his praises. Donnie's hands mapped the contours of her body, shaping her, softening her, opening her up. Putty. Helpless.

She'd never begged a man the way she was begging now. How many times could one woman say 'please'? Every breath, every movement, drew the word from her lips anew. Brea thought too late of the carpet beneath her towel, of how soaked it would be. What would the maid think? Suddenly the thought of her body leaving evidence of their passion made her hotter. He was marking her body, and she was marking the room. They'd leave a little bit of themselves behind, soaked into the floor, forever.

As Donnie moved down, he left the towel covering her haven, bypassing it for her thighs. Kisses tripped down the length of each, falling on her knees, her shins and calves. A kiss behind her kneecap, followed by a nibble, left her gasping; that was a new sensation. When his hands reached her feet, she squirmed.

"I remember. I remember what you texted me, when I'd asked for your biggest secret.."

Oh, fuck. Oh, holy fuck. Of course he remembered. He remembered what she'd been wearing the first time they met; he remembered what she'd said, even when she wasn't clear on it anymore; he'd remembered her birthday and other significant dates in her life without prompting.. Why would she ever think he'd forget her sexual confessions?

"I.. I.." She couldn't lie. She couldn't think of anything to say. In that moment, she gave herself over into his hands. Donnie played her like a violin, finding the right spots, the perfect pressure, until she was moaning, shamelessly running her hands along her body in search of relief. When one hand dipped beneath the towel, her eyes locked on his, issuing a challenge. Donnie groaned, knowing where her hidden hand was, what it was doing.. He grabbed her wrist, pulling Brea's probing digits from her drenched honeypot.

"Naughty girl," he chided, but his voice was thick with heat. Raw.

He moved the towel aside with his free hand, and Brea split her legs, offering herself up without shame. "You're shaved," he stuttered. There was a questioning in his tone, one Brea had to swiftly address.

"I like it better that way. I like to see; I like the smoothness of it, the softness.. Just for myself. Nobody else. Not until now."

He swallowed hard. "For me." His breath was hot against her thigh, and she felt him there at her entrance, taking her in. She blushed, but did not chide him, did not try to hurry him or shoo him away. Scent was a big thing with him, and he was clearly enjoying hers.

"Brea.." When his tongue swiped at her clit, she bucked, unprepared for the intensity of her response. Donnie's mouth melded to her mound, fitting against her with intent. She no longer heard the storms, no longer noticed the hard floor beneath them; there was nothing but his lips and tongue on her, making her crazy. He drew long suckles of honey from her body, lapping it up, swallowing her down before going back for more, and she couldn't breathe.

Brea thought she sounded like a wounded animal, but neither of them cared. "So good.. ohh.. yeah.." Donnie seemed to know her body almost as well as she knew it herself, and she wondered how many times he'd played this scenario in his mind, figuring out what would work best based on everything he knew about her. For once, the intrusive thoughts of her long-ago traumas didn't disturb her groove, and it seemed that if she didn't intervene, he would go on for hours. Tasting her. Eating her.

"Please.. I need you.. Donnie."

Something in her tone made him pause, bringing his mouth to hers, letting her taste herself. "Tell me what you want."

A whimper escaped her lips. "I want you inside me. Please. I need.."

His hand caressed her sex, cupping her mound as he stroked the bare skin. "So wet for me." One finger worked between her lips, hard, but not enough to satisfy. 

"More. Please."

Another joined it, working her slowly. "Like that?"

"Donnie.. I want you. I want.."

A third, stretching her, making her squirm, hips bucking off the ground. His tongue probed her mouth, mimicking the penetration she needed. "Better?"

Her hand reached up to the nightstand, fumbling blindly for the basket. "Please." She found the strip of foil squares, bringing it into view. "Please, honey."

"I want you to cum before I get inside you," he whispered. Brea felt a hot pulse between her legs as she squirted, getting wetter. Donnie placed the protection to one side. "I want you absolutely desperate for me before my cock gets anywhere near your pussy."

Brea groaned. "I'm there. I'm ready."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Not yet, girl. Trust me." Donnie took her hand, moving it to his waist before sliding it down, over him, over the place where his cock tented the towel. "This is what you do to me."

Brea's vision blurred; all that man, so hard for her. "Let me take care of it for you. Let me.."


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally!

Her fingers gripped the length of him through the fabric. "I want it. I want to touch you and see you and taste you the way you've - "

Donnie tried to shush her with a kiss. Brea would not be denied.

"Let me do this." 

"Baby girl, just let me - "

She wriggled into a sitting position. She was naked now, the towel out of the way, and Donnie watched as she slid a hand back down, boldly touching herself, feeling the heat of his stare.

"Breanna." There was an edge of warning in his tone, but she giggled, shaking her hair as it dried.

"Fair is fair. I want to taste you."

Brea was so wet, it was hard to get the friction she needed on her clit. She was so swollen, so ripe with need, and Donnie was dazed for a moment, lost in the rhythm of her hand making small circles around that hot little button. 

"Brea.. fuck.."

"Will you let me? Or should I take care of this myself? This is what you do to ME. All those nights you got me worked up, teasing me, making me wait.." She plunged two fingers between her lips, almost crying with the fullness of it, the hardness. When she drew those wet fingers into her mouth, he snapped.

"Damn it, Brea.." 

"Let me taste you." She leaned forward, nibbling on his ear, feeling his breath escape as she did so. "Let me play with you; let me lick you, suck you.."

Her hands tugged the towel free. He resisted the urge to cover up.

"If you love me, you'll let me make you feel good."

It was a dirty tactic, and she knew it, but it got results. Donnie sighed in defeat, and Brea kissed him for giving in. Her hands claimed him bit by bit as he had done with her. Then her mouth followed the same path her hands had forged, skipping that one crucial part, finding ways to tease him until he was as desperate as she was.

Satisfied that he was ready, Brea moved to the bed, positioning herself on her back.

"Bring your body to me, Donnie. Bring your cock to my lips."

She let her head hang down from the edge of the bed, wetting her lips, and Donnie shivered. "You want me to.."

"Like this. Come here. I need you in my mouth, honey. I need to feel you there." His cock jerked, urging him to comply. "I want the smell of you, the taste of you. Please."

He found that the bed was at the perfect height for this, and Brea's lips welcomed the tip of his cock, easing him in little by little. She had to work him in slow, giving plenty of licks in between attempts at swallowing him. Donnie watched her throat muscles working as she took more of him inside herself, until he was in as far as he could go. Her hands pinched his hips, signaling for him to move, and he did so, gingerly.

"Fuck, Brea.." 

She was so tight, so hot, and he barely had to move before pleasure went zinging through his entire body. This activity couldn't go on for long, or he'd blow.

Her tongue fluttered against his shaft, her throat squeezing him, and Donnie had to hold back, resisting the urge to thrust harder, to fuck her mouth.

She pinched his hips again, then let her hands reach around to stroke his ass. That feather-light touch countered with the hard, wet suction of her mouth, and he almost came right there.

"Brea, I'm close."

She moaned, letting it vibrate along his shaft, settling somewhere in his balls. She pulled back, licking at the tip, tasting the salt of him. He couldn't get over her face, how much she was enjoying him, loving him. One hand slid down to her pussy again, while the other rolled and pinched at her nipples. It was too much for Donnie.

"Please. I can't.. It's too good."

Brea sighed, relinquishing her toy. The animal in him wanted to fling her body into position and plunge home, but he fought it down.

"You want me to cum before you get inside me?"

He nodded. Yes. He did. Fuck, he wanted to make her fall apart, to shatter her to pieces before - 

"Then come here."

She sat up, eyes still watering, mouth swollen and used. "Let me sit on you. Fuck me with your tongue, your mouth."

Donnie laid on the bed, and Brea moved her body along his, letting him feel her wetness from his feet, all the way up to his face. She had marked him, letting her juices rest on his skin, drying sticky and sweet. "You want this?"

Donnie looked up at her in the candlelight, all that honey glistening on her folds. "I thirst for you."

Brea placed a thigh on either side of his head, lowering herself down to his face, her hands gripping the headboard. She let a little squirt hit him on the chin. "Take me."

From this angle, all the blood rushed to her most sensitive parts, speeding things along. He could feast on her without cramping his neck, and he had access to every part of her. Sucking him had made her hot, and he could feel that heat, could taste it with every lick, every sip. Her thighs were trembling, fingers blanching as she held on for dear life. 

"Right there. Do that again.. fuck.. right there.. don't stop.."

Donnie took a risk, pressing a finger into her folds as he licked her clit. Brea called his name, and more honey dripped down into his waiting mouth.

"So good.." 

He was hard to the point of pain, imagining sliding her body down until she was over his cock, the way it would feel to impale her on his aching need... 

Donnie caressed her ass, his fingers straying ever closer to that sensitive spot between her cheeks. She was so wet, it was running down her thighs and into her crack, and Donnie moved the finger from that wetness into her asshole.

"Oh, fuck.. please.."

He worked that digit in and out of her hole, setting her on fire. "Don't stop, honey.. fuck.. don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop.." Donnie felt her body go rigid, her love raining down onto him as she came hard, lips fluttering against his face. He could feel the force of it rush through him, his cock dripping pre-cum for her, ready to be inside her.

Brea wasn't sure how she ended up on her back, his capable hands gentling her into position. "Mm.. Donnie..?"

He was fumbling with the rubber, shaking with need. "I'm here, baby."

She felt him, hard against her thigh, and with a kiss, he was in. Donnie could feel the aftershocks spasming around his cock as he began to move, and Brea gasped, still sensitive.

His strokes were slow, and she felt the ripples of them spreading through her entire body. The urgency was gone for the time being, and she could relax and enjoy it. Donnie planned to make her cum again, but he was going to build her up gradually.

"You feel so good, girl," he whispered. He was so swollen, so ready, she didn't know how he was holding out. "So tight for me."

"You're so hard for me," she marveled. "So thick."

Part of her wished she'd stayed on top, but she felt that he needed this, needed to drive into her this way, setting the pace. "Don't hold back," she pled. "Whatever you want."

He groaned. Whatever he wanted? He wanted to remove the piece of rubber separating them and feel her skin on his. He wanted to cum inside her, to let her take every drop he had to give, soaking her, bathing her. He wanted.. things he couldn't allow himself to think about.

Donnie loved the way she moved, meeting his thrusts. He loved the way she breathed, the sounds she made, the touch of her skin as their bodies met. What had he been nervous about?

Brea felt the burning need begin to build once more, setting her body alight. Could she really..?

Donnie breathed into her ear about how sexy she was, how beautiful, how good her body felt.. She soaked it up, wanting to hold onto that feeling forever. Brea felt herself hovering on the edge, and he kept her there, drawing it out, giving her just enough to tease but not to satisfy.

His kisses tasted unlike anything she'd ever had. They tasted like.. like..

"Are you ready, Brea?"

"I'm ready. I want you to cum. I want you to.."

He moved faster, making her pant. Donnie wanted her to look at him, and she made herself open her eyes, focusing on his face. 

"I love you," he said, so softly she thought she'd imagined it. Then, again: "I love you."

His hips underscored the sentiment, pushing her closer. "Cum for me, Brea." 

She felt tears forming in her eyes. His kisses tasted like love.

"Donnie..."

Harder. Deeper. He found the spot, feeling her tighten around him.

"Breanna.." He told her again, and she felt it start, a slow wave crashing over her, rocking her body. She heard him let go, giving himself to her, felt the pulse of his seed inside her. She watched his face as it took him, saw the emotion there, the need that had nothing to do with lust. It was mirrored in her own. 

Donnie held her, close, as close as two people could get. They were both shaking; she was crying without sobs, though she was happy, happier than she'd dreamed she could be.

When he finally moved from being on top of her to being beside her, he was concerned. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling, the tears slowing. "I'm fantastic."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure. That was.."

Love. Perfection. Everything she wanted.

"I wouldn't have guessed you were a crier."

"I'm not usually. Just, that was.. different."

He was quiet, but did not pull away.

"Good different."

"I think I know what you mean."

She noticed the silence outside. "The storms have died down."

He looked; it was true. 

"What are we gonna do? I mean, what are YOU going to do, and what am I - "

He stopped her. "No, you had it right: What are WE going to do." He checked his phone, seeing he had several missed calls and voicemails. Donnie smiled.

"They're worried about me."

Brea smiled. "Well, nobody on board is missing me. Except maybe the guy you had watching me.."

She said it without anger, but Donnie flinched. "Ah. He spilled the beans, huh? Or did you pick up on being followed?"

"A little of both. I think, in a weird way, I get why you did it. Just.."

"What?"

"It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't supposed to end this way."

"Who says it has to end this way?"

Brea sighed. "Your world is about to implode. Everything you've worked for over the last few years, all the tv shows, the restaurant, the band - "

"She isn't going to stop me from living my life. It's taken a long time and a lot of trial and error, but, I think I've finally figured out what I really need."

Brea held her breath.

"Will you try? Without games, without promises - will you give me one more chance? I mean, I faced my biggest fear - being alone with you, making love to you - and it all worked out okay."

"MORE than okay."

"Alright, MORE than okay. I'm not afraid anymore. I didn't know you'd be on the boat, but when I saw you, I just.. I thought I was doomed to repeat my mistakes, that I would let another chance slip away. Then I met you on the beach, and.."

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since that moment. It hadn't even been TWELVE.

"And here we are." She let that sink in, for both of them.

"And here we are." Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled again.

"Looks like more bad weather." She looked at him, feeling the electricity of the storm brewing inside of her. Awakening something primal in her.

"So we could be stuck here for a while. No airport, so we'll need a ship."

"Mmm, I can think of worse things than being stranded here with you."

He laughed. "Oh, gee, thanks!" He saw the love in her eyes, and he wasn't really offended.

"Got any other good stuff in that welcome basket?"

He nibbled her ear. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking.. If it's not too cold, maybe we could.. spend some time out on the balcony. I've never made love in the rain."

He believed her; he knew she was an honest person. "Well then, allow me to show you what you've been missing."

Right on cue, the storm let loose. Leaving the warmth and comfort of the bed, they walked naked to the sliding glass door.

"This is dangerous, you know," he warned.

"Donnie, I'm tired of living safe. I'm ready to take a risk. How about you?"

He didn't say a word. He answered with a kiss.


End file.
